


The Reason Eagles are Allergic to Middle-earth Quests

by unorigelnal (jayburding)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Tabletop Gaming AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayburding/pseuds/unorigelnal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really it was their own fault that they couldn't have eagles. </p>
<p>Actually, it was really Thorin’s fault, all things considered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reason Eagles are Allergic to Middle-earth Quests

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thejerseydevile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejerseydevile/gifts).



> An AU based on [this](http://thejerseydevile.tumblr.com/post/102487593471) post. All blame belongs to thejerseydevile.

Really it was their own fault that they couldn’t have eagles. Actually, it was really Thorin’s fault, all things considered. The man had a natural talent for saying the wrong thing, which had also translated to a gift for consistently appalling diplomacy rolls.

When Thorin’s first 18 of the whole game was trumped by the DM’s 20 for Azog, they allowed the overly gleeful trouncing Thorin took at Azog’s hands mainly because the DM had to be rewarded for not throttling any of them during the run through Goblin Town and that whole thing with the falling scaffolding. At least they’d let the tagalong NPC save Thorin’s ungrateful dwarven counterpart when the rest of the party had all rolled spectacularly badly on their attempts to aid him- Dwalin took the cake with a roll that took her die off the table and wedged it against a chair leg for a score that the DM decided was half a one.

It had just gotten worse from there. It was hardly the DM’s fault that Gandalf managed to both use her environment and completely fail to take it into account when she successfully argued for flaming pinecones and set the whole area on fire. Since she wasn’t as good at spontaneous water as she was at fire, the trees went up soon enough, and the DM had to scramble to rescue the situation again before they all had to suffer through another character creation session.

And then Thorin, who should have been made to roll for diplomacy in real life, opened his mouth and ruined everything.

“Why do we even have these?”

Everyone saw the vein in the DM’s temple twitch. Gandalf dropped her head to the table with an audible thud.

“Sentient eagles aren’t that far off from a whacking great talking dragon,” Bofur chimed in, cheerful as his “cousins” set to rolling out their new character sheets in utter despair of the situation going anything other than south. They clearly hadn't learned for last time: the word "battlespoon" appeared on Bombur's sheet despite the DM's threat of Tipp-Ex the last time around, and Bifur still seemed adamant he had to have an axe wedged _somewhere_.

“Sentient eagles summoned by moths?” Dori asked with the same lack of DM related foresight that plagued three quarters of the group.

"The moths don't summon them," Balin said. "Gandalf summons the moths and the moths bring the eagles."

"Because Gandalf's tightfisted with MP, and gets away with moth summon expenditure for eagle summon results due to massive DM bias," Gloin said before subsiding back into an argument with Oin about the toppings for the pizza they meant to order half an hour ago.

“Are the moths sentient too?” someone else asked, but no one clocked who because the DM’s forehead twitched again. Ori excused themself to put the kettle on and scurried out before things could get ugly.

“I take it no one read the lore then,” the DM said with the calm of assured violence in the near future.

"I did," Nori said, not as subtle as he thought he was when he tried to peer at the sheets under the DM's white knuckled hand.

"I've already played this setting," Balin said. "I know the lore."

"Just because the setting is familiar doesn't mean the lore hasn't changed," the DM growled. "That's why I sent you the updates."

“You mean that word doc you sent out? There were like ten pages just for this session,” Kili grumbled, suddenly scrutinising his own character sheet so he didn’t have to meet the gaze currently burning a hole in his forehead.

“There was a tl;dr section for the lot of you who take your character notes on literacy too seriously.”

“Didn’t read that either,” he admitted. “Still too long.”

“It was nearly a page,” Fili said in defence of his boyfriend/brother, a combination which was proving wonderful or horrifying depending who you talked to round the table.

A muffled groan emerged from the slumped heap of robes that was Gandalf.

“Ok, who did read the lore?” the DM said, still too calm to be doing anything other than contemplating homicide.

Silence round the table; even the pizza argument subsided. Gandalf gave a feeble wave, still not raising her head. In the kitchen, Ori got conspicuously louder, probably to give credence to their attempt to claim innocence later. Everyone else was shades of guilty or stubborn, all carefully avoiding looking at the DM as they scanned the group.

“Alright, everybody off,” the DM snapped, snatching up the tiny eagle models they’d provided and scattering the dwarves across the table. “No eagles for anyone.”

“It was just a question,” Dori grouched as she forked over the model she’d been coveting.

“I said OFF.” The eagles were swept into a little bag and stashed in the DM’s bag, out of reach of ungrateful dwarven players. “The eagles have deposited you on a rocky outcropping that seems to have the vague shape of a rearing bear. In the distance, you can see-”

“Why is it shaped like a bear?” Fili asked.

Gandalf muttered something about helping Ori with the tea and fled the table. DM’s forehead was twitching again. The lore notes crumpled under their hands.

Oh dear.


End file.
